


Avocados and Roses

by gypsyweaver



Category: Baby Driver (2017), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angel Beelzebub (Good Omens), Angst, Crossover, F/M, Fallen Angel Gabriel (Good Omens), Fallen Gabriel is a charmer, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Megiddo, One Shot, Reverse Omens, Reversed Ineffable Bureaucracy, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Soft Beelzebub (Good Omens), Soft Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsyweaver/pseuds/gypsyweaver
Summary: After the events of Baby Driver, Fallen Gabriel meets with Angel Beelzebub (ostensibly) to discuss the coming war. Instead, they discuss his recent adventures in Atlanta.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	Avocados and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Spoilery for Baby Driver. If you haven't seen it, this may not make as much sense.

Certain things and people belonged in an avocado grove. This man, though, was not one of them. He lounged in the shade of a particularly verdant avocado tree (the better to keep the heavenly bastards from spying on him with), his very expensive suit somehow not wrinkling in spite of his position and the humidity of the grove. He was not sweating in spite of the heat.

He remained a shadow’s shadow. A creature made of the places between the stars.

He’d already spread out the picnic blanket and had the basket ready. The sun blazed through his expensive shades. Fucking Megiddo, again.

He wished he could take her somewhere nicer.

He felt her before he saw her, but he was accustomed to that. The ethereal presence that was Her shimmered down as a cloud of gold. If it were not for the buzzing, he would think that she came and went like Zeus. A cloud of gold dust.

But the bees took her form, and she stepped out of her swarm.

This is why he arrived first. He always gave himself the extra few moments to appreciate the time that the Almighty spent on her soft curves. The way her hair swept up and caught the sun in a river of light brown curls. The soft sweep of her waist to her hips sliding beneath flowing white silk. The sun-kissed shoulders freckled with gold that her linen vest showed off. The gold bracelets flashing.

And her eyes, the same color as the empty summer sky as she pulled up her shades and perched them on her head. A few bees flitted away as she started towards him.

Her blue eyes sparkled as they always did when she saw him. It fired an old ache, an old loss, as she joined him under the avocado tree. The white palazzo pant suit that she wore shined so brightly against the shade, and his own dark clothing.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said.

“You old flatterer. I brought honey,” she said, by way of greeting.

“I brought booze,” he replied. “And a few other things, of course.”

She leaned up against the trunk of the tree, the dappled sunlight picking out the golden highlights in her hair. He handed her a sandwich and a wine cooler. She accepted both, and handed him a jar of spun gold, with a chunk of honeycomb in it.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling out a tin of shortbread biscuits. He opened the jar, dipped a biscuit inside, and ate it.

“Want an avocado?” he asked, pulling a ripe one out of the low branches.

“Didn’t think they were in season...”

He smiled as he cut through the thick skin with his pocket knife. Like everything else he owned, it was black and expensive-looking. This knife looked like it would be more likely to contract a lawyer to sue someone than to kill.

Right now, it did fine with the avocado. Slicing through, and skinning. He handed her a perfectly ripened wedge and watched it disappear between her petal-pink lips.

“Oh, they’re not _quite_ in season,” he admitted. “But I know how you love them.”

“The farmer’s going to be confused...”

“It’s a tip. You like tipping.” He handed her another slick, green wedge. “You like it when I’m generous, don’t you?”

She sighed. “I like it when you’re generous to the humans, yes.”

He snatched her hand out of the air and laid a kiss on the top of it.

She rolled her eyes. “Really, dear?”

The endearment dropped from her mouth like a stone. They both knew what it was. A barrier, a thing made to put distance between them. She’d never called him, “dear”. Not before. Not in the Garden.

Not that she’d remember.

She just knew that he knew that she called the humans by diminutives and endearances because they were never around long enough to bother with names.

She was cross with him. Best to find out why.

“You’re mad,” he said. “What’s up, sunshine?” He popped another honey-dipped biscuit in his mouth.

“So,” she said. “Atlanta.”

“What about it?” he asked, around the honeyed biscuit he was chewing.

“Bad way to go, wasn’t it?”

“Not my worst discorporation.”

“A three-story fall and an explosion?” she said, somewhat incredulously. “Really, dear. What’s the point in running Hell if you still have to be exploded from time to time?”

Her tone was nothing but concern. He basked in it.

That’s why she was cross. She was worried.

“Where were you watching from? Heaven?”

“Try the police helicopter.” She shivered in spite of the heat. “It looked horrible.”

“It was painful,” he admitted. “The pry bar to the arm hurt worse, to be honest. Baby’s girl had a Hell of a swing. It shattered my fucking elbow.”

Another bright twinge of concern. It was sweeter than her honey.

“Hey, I’m fine now,” he told her. “I was discorporated by the impact, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It does not.” Her words were precise, and her tone was prim.

“Ah, c’mon, I wanted to do this one. Hell is fucking dull, and I like fieldwork, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You take too many risks...and I would know! I spent a lot of miracles minimizing casualties while you and that speed demon...speed HUMAN...tore up the Atlanta CBD.”

She’d screwed her face up in a petulant little pout. It was the same look that she’d been giving him since the Garden. Once upon a time, that look would have precipitated some minor act of violence that would end with both of them breathless--kissing and touching each other. Stirring different passions.

Then he’d Fallen and she’d forgotten, and now, here they were. On an avocado farm in Megiddo.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, knowing that she would push him away. She didn’t, though. She didn’t fight him, even as he drew her closer. He kissed her forehead, and she blinked, surprised.

“You know, sunshine,” he began. “If you keep up that kind of talk, I might forget that we’re enemies.”

She rolled her eyes, but she still didn’t pull away from him. “Was it all worth it?”

Her hand was on his chest, and her eyes were on his. Sweet blue eyes, the color of the clearest summer sky.

“Got a bunch of souls,” he said.

“So did we,” she replied. “Your human driver made lots of friends...inspired people, opened their hearts.”

“For now,” he said. “You know they’re hard to hold on to.”

Her hand dropped back to her own lap, and he felt her whole body wilt.

“Humanzz...” she buzzed softly. “They love their zzinzz...”

“My job’s easier. It’s the way of the world, sweetheart,” he said. “Anyways, chin up. You only have to deal with the humans for a little while longer.”

He nearly recoiled from the wave of grief that rolled off of her. His angel was mourning. A loss. A huge loss. The loss of this world. She was a kind soul, but not a gentle one. She held a passion inside her that was hot enough to melt the sun.

So, her sadness was no mortal sadness. Certainly not the mundane sorrow of any normal angel. Her despair and misery were deep enough to drown in.

He stroked her shoulder, offering her what little comfort that a demon could offer an angel.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said.

She didn’t want to bicker. She didn’t want the coming war. Of course not. He pulled her back into himself, still surprised that she allowed it. He was going to have to get himself painfully discorporated more often, if that’s what it took to loosen her up.

“I didn’t know they’d assign you to clean up after me,” he said, honestly. “I’m sorry that I scared you.”

“Who was that girl with you?”

“Monica?” he asked. “She’s one of Asmodeus’ girls...what’s up, sweetheart? Jealous?”

“Oh, goodness no! She’s not my type at all.”

He couldn’t tell if she was joking, lying, or being completely truthful in not understanding his insinuations.

“I asked about her for a reason. Was she supposed to be shot?”

“Well, not exactly, but it all worked out. So, no worries, huh?” He paused. “Did you shoot her?”

“No, heavens! No!” she exclaimed. “A human shot her. But I was one of the uniforms out there that day.”

“Wish I’d gotten to see you,” he said. “You’re so damned sexy in a uniform, you know?”

And now she shoved him away. Now, she remembered herself. She rose quickly and turned on her heel.

“Wait! Hey! We’re supposed to be having a meeting here,” he called, still laughing.

“Meeting adjourned,” she said, putting distance between the two of them.

With an infernal miracle, he was in front of her. On his knees, with a bouquet of flowers. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Walk with me for a while, okay? We’ve still got a war to plan.”

“You’re giving me roses when we’re to be killing each other in a little more than a year?” she asked.

“I’d give you roses every day if I could,” he said, and laid them in her arms.

“You’re...impossible,” she said, stroking one of the blooms and blushing nearly as red as the petals.

“C’mon, sunshine. We’ve got a battlefield to survey.”

He stood up. He took the roses from her and they wove themselves into a crown. He set it on her gold-kissed curls. She closed her eyes and smiled up at him.

“Why in the world would anybody put chains on me, yeah,” he sang to her.

“Are you serious?”

“I've paid my dues to make it,” he continued, and she smiled.

“You are serious.”

“Everybody wants me to be what they want me to be.” He was winning. “I'm not happy when I try to fake it. No, ooh.”

Her sweet, clear voice joined his. “That's why I'm easy. I'm easy like Sunday morning.”

“It’s a Wednesday, you know.”

“Oh, just sing the damned song, will you?”

She did, and he did, as they walked, hand-in-hand, into the blazing sun of Megiddo.

 _I love you, my sweet Gabriel_ , she panted, breathless, in his memory. _Until the last star falls into the sea._

_And beyond, my sweet sunshine. And beyond._

**Author's Note:**

> I finally watched Baby Driver after ~~the whole goddamn fandom~~ several people recommended it. I can see how Buddy is the consensus aesthetic of Fallen!Gabriel. 
> 
> And this is what I wrote.


End file.
